


Critical Kinktober 2: Electric Boogaloo

by clerlys, hashbrownlewds (clerlys)



Series: Critical Kink-month [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (AKA Auralism), (Bonus Kink!), 69 (Sex Position), Anal Pounding, Anonymous Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Balcony Sex, Biting, Body Decoration (Piercing), Body Swap, Body Worship, Bondage, Breathplay, Breeding, CATBOY FJORD, Cock Worship, Collars, Consensual Somnophilia, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Domesticity, Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Formalwear, Frottage, Gags, Glory Hole, Hate Sex (ish), Intercrural Sex, Kemonomimi, Knotting, Leashes, Lingerie, M/M, Marking, Masochism, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Minor Bukakke, Mirrors, Multi, Nonbinary Essek Thelyss, Nonbinary Mollymauk Tealeaf, Objectification, Orgasm Denial, Other, Outdoor Sex, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Public Masturbation, Public Sex, Sadism, Scenting, Sexual Frustration, Size Difference, Sounding, Spitroasting, Stockings, Trans Beauregard Lionett, Trans Fjord (Critical Role), coiling, consensual hypnosis, feederism, power difference, size queen, soft dom, tummy bulge, upskirt sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:47:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 17,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26744620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clerlys/pseuds/clerlys, https://archiveofourown.org/users/clerlys/pseuds/hashbrownlewds
Summary: Many more rarepairs. Many more kinks.(Join our rarepair discord!!! https://discord.gg/8hk4kqjpRc !18+ only!)
Relationships: Astrid/Jester Lavorre, Caduceus Clay/Caleb Widogast, Caduceus Clay/Eodwulf, Caduceus Clay/Fjord, Caduceus Clay/Shaun Gilmore, Caduceus Clay/Uk'otoa, Corrin Clay/Kotho (Critical Role), Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, Fjord/Caleb Widogast, Fjord/Marius LePual, Grog Strongjaw/Caleb Widogast, Jester Lavorre/Yasha, Keyleth/Vex'ahlia (Critical Role), Mollymauk Tealeaf/Artagan, Mollymauk Tealeaf/Essek Thelyss, Mollymauk Tealeaf/Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, Percival "Percy" Frederickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III/Caduceus Clay, Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III/Caleb Widogast, Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III/Orthax, Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III/Vex'ahlia, Pike Trickfoot/Yasha, Pumat Sol/Mollymauk Tealeaf
Series: Critical Kink-month [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809472
Comments: 95
Kudos: 316





	1. Glory Hole / Bukakke / Sexual Frustration (Percy)

**Author's Note:**

> ok, so this failed back in july! but it's october now! it's been a wild ride this year. here's to healing, my loves. and being absolutely, unforgivably horny.

It is often the most refined of people who possess the most debaucherous of desires.

This is a fact that Percival Frederickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III was not exempt from, as he slipped out in the dark of dusk on one of many evenings. Simply to satisfy one of his cravings that he had attempted to quash for so long. 

He slips into a well-concealed back door of an upmarket restaurant, key in hand. Nobody else there to force the realisation of how truly shameful this hobby is, thankfully. Though there had been someone here previously, to set down a cushion and a bottle of water.

Because this was a self-respecting establishment that treated its whores well.

Percy shivers as he takes his seat, kneeling upon the cushion, doffing the voluminous cloak he'd wore for concealment.

This is  _ fine.  _ This is how normal people go about their sexual fantasies.

He decides to focus on the sound of sliding wood as he opens the window,  _ just _ the right height for his mouth, circular and big enough for… well, you know. Focuses on the gauche decor of the room beyond.

It's not two minutes later until there's a shift of movement, a flash of red, and a half-hard cock slots itself through the hole, its head just tapping Percy's lips.

For all he's tried to stay incognito, he moans.

" _ Cute _ ," he thinks he hears the person on the other end remark, and decides to ignore any response by swallowing half the cock. Only a little petulantly.

Percy's cheeks are already stained an embarrassed,  _ aroused _ red, his own cock straining against pants far too expensive for this situation. Bracing a hand against the cherrywood wall, he bobs up and down, exercising the skills he has somehow picked up in his time doing it.

It's when his partner comes that he decides they must be a tiefling - their spill is hot and potent on his tongue.

He pants softly, throat overcome with a dull ache, cock growing needier still in its confines.

As his second servicing comes around, a dark skinned human with a soft cunt peeking from dark curls, Percy begins to wonder why he hasn't taken himself in hand yet.

The futile rocking of his hips, so needy as he takes the clit between his reddened lips? The extended pleasure given to other people, when they soak his chin with slick, so plentiful while he himself lies barren?

Questions and inquiries are so difficult to answer, when he's swallowing, pleasuring, choking.

He's worked his way to the root of a greenish cock, warm and thick just the way he perhaps likes them, when they suddenly pull back to release across his mouth, rather than in it.

Percy's lips are still parted, wet with saliva and past people's rewards, and some catches on his tongue. 

The rest drips down his chin, his neck.

His  _ collar _ , for heaven's sake.

But he… doesn't need to mind. Just lick up what he wants to, leave the rest for effect, and open wide for the next customer.


	2. Soft Dom / Intercrural Sex (Jester & Yasha)

All it takes is the crooking of one finger to beckon Yasha forth. Jester's other hand is still running back and forth between her inner thighs, slicking them up well and teasing herself so deliciously. 

Unsurprisingly and endearingly, the lube she uses shimmers with pink sparkles, pearlescent and beautiful against the blueberry shade of her skin.

Yasha watches, entranced and quietly eager, at every pass between her legs. Encouraging her forth with the sparkle of the lube.

"C'mon, I'm ready for you." Jester hums, peeking over her shoulder to look at Yasha. At first, there's a spike of anxiety, the worry she's just not doing it right - but Jester smiles, and it creases the skin around her eyes, and Yasha melts into warm need and love.

She steps close enough to settle her hands on Jester's hips (and feel her tail come to wind around her bicep), a gentle spike of pleasure as her length presses against warm skin.

"In your own time, baby." the tiefling adds, conversely rubbing her slick thighs together. 

"Ah… okay, I'll do it." Yasha responds, nodding as if it could make her more confident. Jester deserves better than this, honestly. Someone who actually knows what they're doing.

But when she slides between Jester's thighs - so plump and so soft and so  _ wet _ \- Jester makes a delighted little whimper, arches her back to offer herself better.

Yasha sheathes herself fully, feeling the reflexive press of Jester's legs together to keep the stimulation at its best. It takes a few, languid thrusts for her to adjust.

She needs to make Jester feel good, too.

Hunching over, so she could rest her chin upon Jester's head if she was inclined to, her hands move to cover Jester's on the edge of the table.

" _ Yasha _ ." is all Jester needs to whisper, to choke out a quiet moan from her partner.

With the new angle, she can rub right up against Jester's folds, soft with her natural slick.

And that is the true point of contact, there, sliding against each other with every roll of Yasha's hips.

Yasha herself is unaware of whether she's naturally quiet, or she's unconsciously quieting herself. She's a contrast to Jester, who gasps and moans and giggles every other time Yasha presses forwards. She holds her thighs tight together, coaxes Yasha's confidence with sweet words, twists her head round to check up on her.

When it becomes more frantic, when it starts feeling  _ really _ good, and Yasha's moans are falling from her lips like dropped pebbles, Jester presses back against her, and she gasps out,

"Your clit feels so good, it's so good -"

Yasha whines, quietly, and comes, dripping down Jester's heated thighs. Her blunt nails dig crescent-shaped marks into Jester's hands; she'll feel bad about it afterwards, but Jester will want to stain her skin forever.


	3. Breeding / Gags (Fjord & Caleb)

He swears he can feel Caleb when he pushes in – the welcoming heat of him, eager and clenching already around the girth of the strap.

Fjord can't tell whether it soothes his rut, or stokes it further. It feels so  _ fucking _ good to be inside someone, to have a body to claim, but it is simultaneously far from enough.

Once he's sheathed himself inside Caleb, he waits, already panting hard through the ball gag.

Spread out on the bed below him, bent at the hips, Caleb gives the smallest rock of his hips against him, and if Fjord didn't know any better, he'd call it teasing.

"Are you still good, Fjord?" Caleb questions, and it's pleasing to hear the tiniest tremble in his voice. Really though, Fjord wants to fuck him beyond all coherent speech.

"Mmhmm." he returns his affirmation, muffled through the gag, and runs a hand down the line of Caleb's spine. He can feel the red-hot sparks at the tip of his fingers, the urge to dig his growing claws into the freckled skin and  _ take _ him.

But he won't. He'll be so very, very good for Caleb.

It's why he gagged him, after all.

"Well? Would you like to breed me, then?"

That word sounds so damningly good in Caleb's accent, and it gets under his skin, down to where he wants - no, needs.

The invitation is there, and he takes it in a slow, wanton withdrawal and press in of his hips, Caleb's worked-open hole taking in all of the cock except for the knot.

By the Mother, if Fjord could see Caleb take that… 

Fjord's aware that Caleb sees himself as quiet in bed; muffling moans wherever he can. But it's difficult to see oneself when you're halfway to orgasm. Cheek pressed to the covers, rocking back and forth with the delicious power of every thrust. And he is loud, of course he is, parted lips just visible over the warm spill of hair. 

Gasping out, wordless, Common, Zemnian, asking to be bred.

He keens properly, when Fjord's knot slips in, making a final attempt to stay in control and hiss ' _ give it to me _ '. 

Fjord is absolutely going to cum from this, his real cock swollen and slick and aching, barely just rubbing against the base of the strap - but he wouldn't need it anyway.

He pulls out, just a little, watches Caleb's rim stretch so beautifully around the thick knot, watches Caleb suddenly seize up and spill onto the bed, barely touched.

Fjord is trembling at that, pushing the knot back in, and -  _ there _ . 

Caleb, squirming softly in pleasure, all fucked out and knotted up.

That's… That's  _ good _ .

Some primal part of Fjord feels satisfied, ebbing slowly to make room for the want to protect – Caleb has offered himself to be used, to be bred, and now he belongs to Fjord and he must take care of him.

Oddly, Fjord also feels just as taken care of.


	4. 69 / Orgasm Denial (Caduceus & Caleb)

Caleb resurfaces.

He feels numbed and sensitive at the same time – his mouth has been so full, so calming, but his lips have been stretched so wide.

If there's any way to amplify the infectious calm that radiates from Caduceus, it's to have sex with him.

Which, in turn, amplifies the absolute disbelief that he could ever land a partner such as this one.

It takes two hands to wrap around the grey length of his cock, excluding the knot. Caleb gives it an enthusiastic stroke while he takes in heavy breaths - adjusting, getting his breath back.

Caduceus makes this  _ wonderful _ little groaning noise, all while Caleb's fully sheathed in his mouth. That's one of the big bonuses that comes with big partners; they can fit more.

He's busy wondering how on earth he's going to make Caduceus come, this thing as thick as his forearm and nearly as long, while Caduceus has him constantly swallowed to the root, when -

"Ca _ a _ \- aduceus," he speaks up, the warm tremble in his voice entirely unintentional, "have you ever… been denied before? Your - ah - your orgasms, I mean?"

Large, soft hands moving to grip his ass (entirely unintentional, surely, just for leverage), Caduceus raises Caleb's hips up until his mouth pops off his cock. Cad's breathing is heavy and  _ low _ and Caleb feels it in his stomach.

"I've, uh, been denied stuff before. Everyone has. But not an orgasm. What's that like?" he replies, and a tickle of hair against Caleb's thigh makes him think he's shaking his head.

"I could show you, if you are willing." Caleb suggests, and twists his head and shoulders around to look back at Caduceus.

He's all curled up to compensate for the height difference, hair fanned about him, eyes soft and bright and only just shifting to look at Caleb.

Oh dear. Oh dear.

"Please. I like trying new things." Caduceus says, with this incredibly innocent smile, and Caleb could weep.

Caleb can barely nod, turning back around as quick as he can so he doesn't have to be stifled by beauty any longer.

He decides that hands are a great substitute for days' worth of an aching jaw, so he squeezes them tight around Caduceus's shaft, drags his tongue over the very tip.

Cad hums, the sound lazy and lingering, and it trails off as he takes Caleb back into his mouth.

Caleb can't suppress the whimper as he continues to pleasure him as best he can, twisting his hands around his cock, trying to milk the pleasure from him. Build the orgasm as best he can.

He’s used to it, he’s done it before - admittedly mostly to himself. 

Caleb gets dangerously close to orgasm himself, with Caduceus’s broad tongue making inquisitive little licks down the side of his cock. He’s losing his train of thought, his constant efforts to bring Caduceus off. He decides it’s enough when he hears this soft whining noise from behind him, much higher in pitch than he’d have expected. In one, perhaps overly-swift move, Caleb slips the tip from his mouth and withdraws his hands. 

He’s always enjoyed the immediate, involuntary reaction - and Cad is no such exception to his enjoyment, his voice running low in a deep groan this time, cock twitching with such heaviness that it seems to bounce.

Caleb manages one more look over his shoulder, to gauge the response.

Caduceus’s eyes are suddenly wild with want, wide-eyed - he’s changed so much by one simple edge.

And there is nothing on his face to say he dislikes it.


	5. Size Difference / Knotting / Breathplay (Pumat & Pumat & Molly)

Molly likes cliches. They’re fun and easy. Nothing wrong with partaking in one every so often.

They exercise that value once, leant over the counter of the Invulnerable Vagrant, ass up and tail making suggestive curlicues in the air. Not getting plowed by firbolg cock.

_ Yet. _

"You're not the first, friend." one of the simulacrums hum in reply to Molly's proposition - not unkindly, with a broad smile that's almost definitely open to alternative methods of payment.

"And not the last, I'd think. Not with the way you look. And… the number of you." Molly returns, eyes flicking across to the door that leads beyond the shop, distant sounds and footsteps audible from behind.

Pumat laughs - and Molly wonders if they're just numbed to the potency of the sexual innuendo over time, or the lot if them aren't as charmingly innocent as one might assume.

"Hey. The more benefits of havin' a lot of ya', the happier we are." says the large firbolg with a mirthful pat to Molly's clothed forearm.

Molly expects him to pull away after that, but the hand stays. It could more than encompass the width of his arm.

"If you're still comfortable with what you're offerin', why don't we head on back? I'm sure we've got another pair of free hands." 

Ah, Molly realises, then.

This is it.

There's excitement stirring in their gut as they walk, trying to keep the sway of their hips to minimum so not to let the jangling of coins be heard in their pouch.

Of  _ course _ they have enough to pay the full amount.

  
  


The duplicates are kind enough to introduce themselves; these are One and Two.

Three's in the back, organising their stock, on post to attend to customers. Prime's out. 

And Molly is  _ so fucking in. _

They're perched up on a cleared table, covered with a  _ heated _ towel (enchanted, or do the Pumats go to that much trouble for their special customers?), legs and tail wrapped around the hips of the first duplicate, mouth around the second one.

Their arms are shaking, planted firmly upon the table to give some purchase, and they might give out at any time. Best way to be, if you ask them.

As they've learnt, sometimes intimately, over their few years of existence, firbolgs have quite the finest of dicks.

The knots are already a winning feature, and if Molly doesn't get one of Pumat's in them right this second, they might as well just combust.

Sure, it's going to be one hell of a stretch, what with how wide their mouth and cunt are spread already, but there's a first time for everything.

They've worked down so much of Two's length that it's near impossible to breathe, bringing tears to their eyes and making their chest feel all hot and thin. The Pumats had expressed concern over the matter, so Molly had to politely explain this particular kink – whilst still stuffed at one end.

When the feeling gets too much, they're pulling back, guided by the gentle strength of Two's hand. Parting from his warm cock with a delighted gasp for air, they figuratively and literally set their sights upon the first duplicate, who's taken Molly's legs in hand to thrust into them harder.

Such gentle creatures with such incredible drives.

"Knoo _ ooo _ \- fuck!" Molly begins to beg, and it's knocked off course by One fucking into them  _ just _ right, and if they had their hand on their clit, they'd be coming  _ so _ hard.

"I ain't too sure but I think your word was on the lines of wantin' a knot, huh?" One guesses, both far too composed and nonchalant. He presses right up against them, hips flush, and there's a very definite press of his knot against them.

Molly doesn't have the  _ exact _ breeding tendencies a firbolg does, but they get the faint urge to keen like they're in heat; so that's exactly what they do.


	6. Upskirt Sex / Domesticity / Creampie / Tummy Bulges (Percy & Vex)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very proud of this for hitting all four kink prompts 👀 go perc'ahlia. also, please feel free to send in ship requests!   
> t'would be greatly appreciated! 💜

Percival has two things in mind for their anniversary – breakfast, and a skirt.

His wife, Vex'ahlia, has not breakfast in mind, but she's almost got the skirt there.

Well, what's  _ under _ it, exactly.

She first enters the kitchen with a smile on her face and food on her mind – and she takes one glance at at that black pleated skirt – and slips back out again to fetch some lube and a present she  _ would've  _ saved for later.

But her husband is just that irresistible. 

And, fifteen minutes later, hands splayed on the counter and crumpets forgotten, Percy is  _ also _ thinking about what's under his skirt.

(Vex, and a  _ long _ strap-on he's definitely not been fucked with before.)

"You are so  _ needy _ , aren't you?" she hums into the crook of his neck when she's bottomed out, smoothing a hand over Percy's thigh under the flipped-up skirt.

"I – mm _ mmh _ . For you." he groans back, rolling his hips back against her.

"Oh, so this is  _ my _ fault, now." she hisses in a welcome twist of his words, and bends him further over the counter with a hand to his back, fucks into him nice and roughly.

"Darling,  _ please _ ," whimpers Percy, and he's known nothing easier than slipping into a headspace where all that exists is his lovely wife's lovely cock in him, and his very soul ready to bend over backwards for her command.

"This skirt-" she begins, tugging on the hem, "quite the present, isn't it?" 

Percy yelps rather unceremoniously, the pull on the hem shifting the fabric over his sensitive cock. He steals a glance downwards, where he's tenting the skirt very obviously, a small damp spot forming over the tip.

"Please touch me." is all he says back, all he  _ can _ say, rutting his hips to get some semblance of friction. 

And Vex just chuckles, while she continues to fuck into him, and it makes Percy's insides burn in the most beautiful way.

"No, pet, I'm already being quite lenient to you." she chastises him gently, with a kiss to the shell of his ear that makes him shiver. He's so hard, and the denial of touch makes him  _ harder _ , and he's going to get dizzy.

"Though… if you begged pretty enough, I might show you something exciting." she added, a faux afterthought, and traced her tongue over where she'd placed the kiss upon his ear.

Percy, the most daft and obedient man she's ever known, trips over himself to comply.

"Please, Vex, mistress, my  _ love _ , I want – I'll take anything you give to me, really,  _ anything _ , you make me feel so wonderful as it is, I don't deserve, please, you,  _ please _ ."

For all her crafted demeanour, she wavers for a second and laughs genuinely at her husband’s desperate honesty, adoring every inch of his submissiveness.

“Good boy. You’ve earned it.” she decides, and Percy makes this beautiful, happy hum in response. Taking a hand to his hip, over his skirt, she pulls his ass back fast against her hips and curls her free arm around his chest.

Percy’s next inhale is broken and audible.

“Darling, I’m going to  _ cum _ .” she breathes, nosing into his hair, and whispers a word that is unintelligible in his hazed state.

And she does.

Hot and warm and claiming - and Percy is fucking buzzing at this, surprise and pleasure and arousal shaking him deep - as she  _ fills him up _ , and curses, he should’ve known she had something up her sleeve.

“Oooo _ oooh… _ ” Percy groans, rather loud and obscene. Vex just hums, moaning softly for effect, the magic embedded upon her fake cock continuing to fill him up. 

Percy’s dick twitches needily under the skirt, and it doesn’t  _ stop _ , her warm spend still claiming his insides, making him so warm and wonderful and heavy. 

It’s when he casts another downward glance at his state that his  _ stomach _ .

It’s…  _ ah. _

He reaches down to caress the small distension,  _ loudly _ groaning at the sensitivity.

“You do love being full, don’t you.” Vex whispers, her voice soft and reverent at the pleasure and enjoyment of her beloved. Percy just shakes, and moans. 

“Full…” he echoes dreamily, nearly all tension drained from him.

It’ll never not surprise her, the depth of his subspace. All for her.


	7. Spit-Roasting / Hate Sex...ish (Molly/Caleb/Essek)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [insert penguin waiter meme] your purple brats, sir
> 
> essek is amab nb!

Caleb's vision is decidedly dominated by purple. The colour of Essek's bedroom walls are purple; Essek themself, spread out on the bed below him, is purple; and Molly sitting at the headboard by Essek's head, is also very purple.

It's a good colour.

He's admiring the view, the small curve of Essek's waist, swaying gently back against Caleb's hips. The soft suckling noises of Essek's lips upon Molly's cunt, working them softly.

" _ Mollymauk," _ Essek pipes up suddenly, a clear sharpness to their tone, though softened by pleasure, "would you like someone to suck your cock, or are you satisfied with a scalp to  _ incessantly  _ scratch?" 

Caleb pauses in the gentle rocks of his hips, but senses no considerable damage to the amorous atmosphere.

They're just… bickering. 

Molly's hands lift from where they were previously entwined in Essek's hair, raising them in exasperation. 

"What, does it not feel nice?" they retort, most of the edge taken off by a soft, breathless voice. 

Thoroughly used to this, Caleb sighs.

"If you did it a little less often, then  _ perhaps _ ." says Essek, and leans down to scrape their small fangs against the inside of Molly's thighs. Not expecting this, Molly throws their head back, half a laugh and half a moan.

"How about  _ this _ instead–" Molly begins, a clawed hand curling in Essek's flop of hair again and tugging their head away from the bruising skin, and toward the apex of their thighs.

Essek mutters a curse in Undercommon, irritated at how much they  _ like _ that, unable to  _ not _ seal their lips over Molly's swollen clit again.

Caleb gets the perfect view of it, Essek cursing as they take back to their cunt, Molly's thighs twitching.

"You do a very decent job at this brat taming business." Caleb quips with a small curled smile. His hands fall to Essek's narrow waist, pulls them back onto his cock as a small reward for being so obedient. 

It rocks the drow forward, and they break free from their attentions on Mollymauk, gasping out a plea.

Molly rolls their eyes, reinstating their grip in Essek's ivory hair. Essek fixes them with a steely gaze, despite their eyes being so hazy from lust.

"What, am I not allowed to enjoy Caleb? Must it be solely you?" Essek complains, and they take to Molly's other thigh, nibbling their playful distaste into lavender skin. 

" _ Hng _ \- well, I'd be flattered." Molly counters easily with another tug to Essek's hair. This time, they go easily, though not without another glare.

Caleb sighs in a tone indicative not of weariness, but of fondness. He's been around the two of them long enough to know it's never true malice. Perhaps a little bit of tension, but they are attracted to each other regardless, and the occasional snark and scorn finds a way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for all the reads and comments so far, it's great to be back again :D


	8. Feederism / Masturbation (Caduceus & Gilmore)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohhh it's a weird one. the first one of a few. PLEASE jump on the claymore ship though... i'm so deep in the rarepair pit.

Gilmore enjoys indulging his partners with food. It is, after all, one of life's greatest gifts, the tastebuds on the tongue. And nobody has he ever wanted to indulge more than Caduceus. 

Caduceus is one of the most beautiful men he's ever met. Soft yet sturdy, pink yet dusky. He's just so  _ thin _ . 

Gilmore quickly finds out why, when he's trying to negotiate some more meat on his bones. Caduceus is a vegetarian – no soft, juicy meat for him, marinated in the finest sauces – and a decade of living alone doesn't exactly contribute to one's culinary skills.

But they find a way, through discussions with some of Gilmore's most favoured food suppliers; and at the end of the day, the two men stay in for a nice romantic dinner.

They share a sizable naan bread for starters, soft and oddly sweet. They begin by tearing off their own chunks, but every so often, a piece in Gilmore's hand finds its way against Caduceus’s lips, and the firbolg accepts it, a valediction of his tongue against Gilmore's fingers. 

"This is very nice of you, Gilmore." hums Caduceus, after their plate is finished. He leans forward, kisses his cheek.

"It's what you deserve, at the very least." he replies, and before Caduceus can draw back, takes him by the nape to kiss him properly. 

Slowly enough to allow Caduceus to react if he's uncomfortable, Gilmore trails a hand over his chest, down to his stomach.

"Well, at least you're not concave anymore." Gilmore says with a soft chuckle, and delights in the flare of pink under grey-furred cheeks.

When Caduceus reflects upon it, he's not full just yet -  _ sated _ , rather, which he's taken to mean full many a time.

The main course is a vegetarian alternative to Beef Wellington, a tad too vegetable-dense for Gilmore, so most of his forkfuls are contributed to feeding Caduceus. 

Though appealing to his herbivorous tastes, the meal is still a  _ lot _ , pastry heavy in its greater volumes, the beetroot sharp and sweet. Faint noises of effort are elicited with almost every bite he takes from Gilmore (and Cad's own fork is waylaid somewhere, untouched). 

Distantly, he realises he's moaning. 

"You're into it as well, hmm?" Gil teases, lightly, and his azure gaze directs Caduceus’s to the gentle swell of a narrow stomach, a  _ less _ gentle bulge in his trousers.

"I don't… mmh." Caduceus’s somewhat hazy response has Gil hesitating, worrying he's gone too far, but then Cad is again closing the distance between them and kissing the corners of his lips.

"Please." Caduceus whispers, and Gilmore allows himself a shiver of delight, the excitement of a new shared 'interest'.

He pauses to turn around, reach for something he'd placed there strategically as a 'just in case'. He hands Caduceus a small bottle of oil, faintly shimmering golden.

"Why don't you take care of that, and I'll take care of the rest of you?" Gil suggests, and once Caduceus takes the bottle with a giddy smile, traces his knuckles over his pink chin.

Thus dessert is, by far, the most interesting course. 

Caduceus is incapacitated in terms of eating, one hand slowly slicking his own cock, the other tightly entwined in Gil's to ground himself. 

The first sweet that Gil feeds him is an assortment of small tarts, pastry that melts in his mouth, sugared apple and cherry and custard. It reminds him of home somewhat, which is… an odd memory to have. Then his focus turns to his belly, which feels warm and heavy like never before, and all coherent thoughts fall away.

Somewhat subconsciously, his hand leaves Gilmore's to cup his rounded stomach as if he were with child instead of food. Gilmore laughs fondly, yet the timbre is sultry.

After the tarts, baklava is last, and Gil just  _ knows _ Caduceus would like it. Layers of nuts between thin pastry, and heavily soaked in sugar and honey. 

Not only is Caduceus moaning, he's whimpering with every other bite, syrup sweet, saturated, sticky on his lips. Hand on his length quickening, trembling, getting  _ close _ . 

Soon enough, Gilmore sets the fork down, almost all of the dessert polished off.

"You are  _ gorgeous _ like this. Just made to be full and heavy." he praises, and Cad practically squirms under it, underneath the reverent touch of Gil's hand over his taut stomach.

" _ Gilmore– _ " Caduceus breathes and he is wanton, voice both beautifully tense, and lax, trying to press closer to him without disturbing the swell of his gently aching belly.

Gilmore's hand dips a little lower to replace Caduceus’s hand on his cock, taking over his pleasure as he did his food.

Caduceus’s next pleasantly surprised moan is cut off by a small hiccup, which neither of them can help but laugh at.


	9. Praise Kink / Face-Fucking / Heat Cycles (bonus Objectification) (Wulf & Cad)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> with an extra... pretty damn heavy... dose of objectification XD  
> dedicated to the folks at the cadwulf server. i stan each and every one of you.

For a long time, any interpretation of ' _ being used' _ would make Eodwulf scowl in public, and later on shake like a leaf. 

Though, as he seemed want to do with everything, Caduceus was gently changing the reaction.

They would sit down together, and discuss every aspect of Caduceus using him; what it would entail, where the boundaries would be. Every concern, worry, and fear would be ironed out, or taken into account. Safewords, traffic light system. Breaks during scenes to check up on him. Caduceus never once intentionally hurt him, and it was a haven to exist in.

Soon, Caduceus could lean down and whisper into his ear,  _ would you like me to use you tonight? _ , and Wulf's shiver would be one of arousal, not repulsion.

It felt like a victory, this unlearning.

So when Caduceus goes into rut, and he is so prettily flushed and wanting all over, fucking against sheets and moaning helplessly – Wulf's at his side and offering his mouth for use.

"Thanks, petal." Caduceus says shakily, sliding off the bed at Wulf's gentle encouragement, bringing himself up onto knocking knees, cock achingly hard beneath his underwear.

Wulf settles himself on the sheets – mildly sweat-soaked, but he thinks he'll be distracted soon enough – on his back, looking up,  _ up _ at Caduceus. It's a good contribution to the headspace, so small with Cad towering over him, lying here and only here.

"S – so pretty," Cad says as he's working himself free of his remaining garment, trying his best not to be frantic with his movements. His cock bounces softly as it's freed from its confines; flushed a pretty, needy pink, already drooling with precum. Wulf thinks he drools a bit in tandem.

Caduceus’s large hand brushes affectionately over Wulf's neck, and he swallows reactively.

"Hold- hand. Squeeze, uh, twice. If you want to stop." he continues, offering a large, trembling hand down to Wulf. He takes it quickly, eager to give Caduceus some respite from his rut.

Obedient and oh,  _ so _ willing, Eodwulf lets his lips part in an invitation.

Caduceus bites out a word in a language Wulf cannot decipher - its silvery sound has him guessing Sylvan - as he tentatively slips the head of his cock past Wulf's lips. Already, Wulf is responding, tongue flicking over the dripping slit, suckling at it like he would candy.

"Hh _ aah _ . Good – you're so  _ good _ ." pants the firbolg, already so proud of Eodwulf (and he'd do anything for Caduceus, let him do whatever he wants, he's so kind) as he slides further into his mouth.

There is something  _ wildly _ alluring about the way Caduceus almost thrusts into his throat, less aware that it is his mouth and more just a  _ hole _ , something warm and wet to fuck into.

Wulf has never wanted something so  _ burningly _ before. 

The position helps his throat to relax, helps him to take the girth of Cad's cock, tensing his hand but never squeezing repeatedly. He couldn't begin to imagine doing it - he's in heaven.

"You're doing ss _ so _ good – Wulf – love you," Cad half-groans as he starts up a slow rhythm that easily stutters, desperately attempting to be as gentle as he can, but the instincts are wearing him thin.

It has him holding back just that much, and it won't ever satisfy him. So Wulf squeezes his hand once, twice, and Cad pops free of his mouth as quickly as he possibly can.

"Don't hold back." Wulf tells him before Caduceus can begin to scrape together a sentence. Pink brows furrow, holding onto some semblance of delicacy. Hands still entwined, Wulf gives Cad's a reassuring squeeze. 

" _ Fuck my mouth _ ." he says, a sinful reassurance.

If only there was  _ less _ dick in his field of view, he might have gotten a pretty sight to go with that stuttering gasp. 

Then Caduceus is sliding into his mouth, his throat, again, and Wulf relaxes as best he can, lets him be filled up.

And then Caduceus starts fucking his mouth.

He braces a hand across Wulf's soft pec, other hand still holding Wulf's, thumb running unsteadily across his the skin.

It's so fucking  _ hot _ . Wulf's mind clouds, thinking of nothing but the drool wetting his lips, the  _ filthy _ sounds he's making as Caduceus thrusts into him. 

"Tight.  _ Perfect _ .  **_Wulf_ ** ," and Caduceus – oh, he  _ growls _ his name, and Wulf feels arousal shoot through him like a bullet. He's being so good for him, helping him through his rut like a good  _ toy _ .

"I'mnn. Can't… so  _ good _ ." Caduceus whimpers, hand sliding up from Wulf's chest to his throat. Even the briefest touch has him beginning to gag, but he pushes past the reflex, relaxes himself and trains his throat back to a good little hole for fucking. 

(Oh, hells, he's never going to recover from this.)


	10. Body Decoration / Bondage / Frottage / Cock Worship (Essek & Caleb)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to go more in depth about essek transing their gender! they are an amab nb on Fantasy Estrogen; they have small breasts and a small dick which they are very proud of. the words clit and dick are used interchangably for their genitals.  
> trans essek is very close to my heart 🖤

Essek looks beautiful, on show like this. Silken white ribbon tying their arms behind their back, wrists connected to ankles with a long stretch of the ribbon, ending there in a large bow. The position gives a gorgeous arch to their back, hips pushed forwards; their small, pretty dick the centrepiece of display. 

Caleb is surprised at his self restraint, managing merely to  _ watch _ Essek dripping, twitching, piercing glinting in the light.

"It suits you very well." he observes warmly, finally reaching out to run a finger over the ring of silver – a reverse Prince Albert – and down their hard length. 

Essek gasps, sensitive from being bared but

untouched for so long.

"I am glad, I… mm- was unsure if it was the right decision." Essek mumbles in reply, self-consciously rolling their shoulders back as much as the bondage will allow.

"I think it is one of your better choices." Caleb returns with only the gentlest twitch of a smirk. Essek sighs, and it's not a noise of arousal.

"Sorry," Caleb adds quickly, with a gentle kiss to the tip of their clit. Essek shivers softly.

Caleb's mouth does not part after that - he laves them with the gentlest of affection, running his tongue over the piercing, kissing down their length and back up again. A hand briefly sliding down to cup their balls, but withdrawing to their thigh as he remembers Essek doesn’t enjoy too much attention to them.

"And here I was thinking your clit could not get any prettier… you prove me a fool at every turn, Essek." the human hums, and Essek tugs gently at their bondage, something warm and  _ good _ flooding through them. Euphoric, they think, satisfied and comforted by it.

"You're too good to me," Essek bites out a laugh, brows furrowing down at him. Caleb merely responds with another kiss to their sex.

"Mm. I want to be better. Can I?" he says eventually, and Essek blinks in bemusement and anticipation. 

"If you can manage it." 

Caleb does his best to be patient, kissing a line up Essek's body, over the wing of a hipbone, the ticklish side of their stomach, pausing at their small breasts to suckle a nipple. They try to arch even more than their position keeps them in, every touch of Caleb's lips and stubble better than the last. When he at last reaches their face, he steals a deep kiss from them.

Lost in the heat of it, Essek groans rather loudly when he feels Caleb's cock brush against their clit, fully hard - just from the sight of them.

" _ Ah _ ." they sigh, and Caleb chuckles, kisses the corner of their lips. 

Essek is rather incapacitated, so Caleb does the work, slowly rolling his hips. 

"You're so small compared to me." Caleb leans in to whisper into their pointed ear - which gives the smallest of twitches in response, a hitched breath.

" _ Keep talking _ ." Essek all but pleads, pitch of their voice sliding higher, eyes falling shut. 

"Pillow princess." Caleb accuses, but it's all too affectionate. Essek smirks.

Caleb rocks gently against them again, taking Essek's head between his hands.

"I am so proud of your body. It is very beautiful, and yours." he continues, sliding a hand between their bodies to cup them together.

"Too tender," Essek gasps out amongst the sensation, worrying their lower lip, "I thought we were being  _ sexy _ ."

Caleb just kisses them again, light and gentle, humming into it. He fucks up into the circle of his hand, sliding against Essek, making them both groan.

" _ Herrlich _ . You feel so good. You and your clit." Caleb says breathlessly, and Essek is almost squirming now, halfway between arousal and happiness. They can barely lean forwards enough to capture his lips in a passionate kiss; as if they could imprint all their appreciation upon him through their lips.


	11. Anal Pounding / Anonymous Sex (Bryce)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first off, an apology if the chapters start to decrease even further in legth/quality. i'm struggling, y'all XD

Oh, how embarrassing this is. Shameful, almost.

A few days' respite from the front lines and Bryce has spent most of the first day being  _ horny _ .

It's at a physical stage, rather than just the occasional thought. They feel empty,  _ wet _ , steadily ruining their underwear. There's nothing to distract them from the thought of being put on their hands and knees and  _ claimed _ ; not in this drab inn they'd be provided with.

Before they know it, they're pulling down their pants and underwear, running a finger over their slick folds, and jerking themself off. This is almost annoying.

An hour later, and they're lying in this…  _ booth _ of some sorts, cushions comforting their stomach. There's some arcane wall that cuts off everything above their hips, blurring the view of them.

If anyone found out Watchmaster Bryce Feelid was wilfully bending themself at the waist at an… an  _ establishment _ such as this, they'd never see the end of shame.

Bryce is so busy looking at the paintings of roses and various seductive flowers on the wall that they jump at the feeling of hands on their hips.

" _ Ah _ – sorry." they apologise, already embarrassed, already beginning to regret it. One hand slides across to their flank, then delicately between their legs.

Oh - it feels  _ good _ . Already.

"It's your first time here. Relax." soothes the other person.

Their fingers are careful, soft and preceeded by a question of consent.

It's easy to let their eyes fall shut, relinquish themself to the feeling of two fingers slowly working their ass open.

Bryce would be satisfied from just this. 

When the digits withdraw, leaving them empty, they can't withhold the whine.

"Shush, now. Let me fill you up again." 

The tip of their cock presses into them - and just the heat of it against their entrance is enough to make them moan - and the ingress continues until Bryce is filled up, to the brim, it feels. 

"How gentle or rough would you like it, darling?" they ask once Bryce has adjusted enough to be gently wiggling their hips.

Bryce considers getting a thorough fuck enough to knock out any other burdening sexual thoughts in days to come.

" _ Rough _ ." Bryce asks, so gravely enthusiastic in their answer it's half a hiss.

And it is rough.

The other person grabs them by the hips, fucks into them at an angle that has their cock driving into them so  _ deep _ .

It's barely a minute before Bryce's elbows give out, and they press their cheek into the cushion below them, stifling groans and gasps into it.

This is what they needed; this is what they'd spent so long being incessantly turned on for. 

They're convinced they're dripping halfway down their thighs, cunt twitching with every other harsh thrust. And it's  _ heaven _ . Like a bone-deep ache is being settled, flushed out by powerful surges of pleasure.

They've only had such relations with a couple people in their lifetime, and nothing compares to this. Well, the quality of fucking at least.

This is for the  _ purpose of _ fucking, rather than a personal relationship in which emotions are shown through sex.

If it'll stop Bryce being so damn horny when they get a minute alone, they'll be more than happy with this.

The next slam of their hips together has Bryce  _ yelping _ in pleasure, and they dearly hope that arcane wall does something to distort sound as well as sight.


	12. Coiling (Caduceus & Naga!Fjord)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohh it's another weird one.  
> for reasons i won't be answering comments, but i still appreciate each one of them so much and every single person who's taken the time to read my dumb stuff

Caduceus presses his fingers a little deeper into Fjord’s soft heat, and feels the very end of his tail wrap around his arm. He pauses to watch the gentle squeeze of it, an oddly comforting sensation.

“Ah, sorry-” Fjord utters hastily, the rouge of his cheeks deepening a little. Caduceus can only smile warmly back at him, curling his fingers a little inside him. Fjord writhes with a soft gasp, the end of his tail uncurling from Cad’s arm and flicking about, directionless.

"Hey, you're alright. It's kinda cool." Cad shrugs it off with a genuine smile. He's straddling what would be the tops of Fjord's thighs – where his tail is thickest. He doesn't understand why Fjord would be so uncaring of his tail; it's the most pleasant sensation, strong muscles that feel softer and malleable when he shifts. His scales have gotten lighter, almost iridescent in sunlight recently. Caduceus is so proud of him.

"Uh – I'm ready if you'd like to, you know. If you're still up for it." Fjord says, tone wavering when Caduceus's fingers shift inside him.

"Oh. Yeah? That's nice." Caduceus hums, gently withdrawing his fingers. Half-hard, he gives his cock a gentle stroke, then trailing his fingers down it, the ones wet with Fjord's slick.

"Fuck." Fjord curses under his breath. 

Caduceus adjusts his position, stretches himself out over Fjord with his forearms planted either side of his shoulders. Just the right position for him to kiss the man, gently and slowly, unhurried. It's Fjord's first time, _and_ he's still unlearning his dislike of his tail.

Cad thinks about the first time he saw Fjord, with two legs. Caduceus was the first one to see him drop the spell, the façade.

"You're a beauty of nature." Caduceus tells him gently as he continues to shift, until he can feel his shaft brush up against Fjord's hole, so slick and soft, cloaca spread in his arousal.

"Deuceus," Fjord sighs, then, "please. I need you."

He enters him slowly, all the while touching his face, his hair, his neck. Fjord's expression is twisted into sweet pleasure, tail beginning to twist around the back of Caduceus’s thighs, pulling him closer,  _ deeper _ . 

"Aaaahhh _ fuck _ -" Fjord groans out, reaching up to tangle his hands in Caduceus’s hair. Tail still twisting - unaware - it's over his knees now, never tight enough for him to complain. The underside of his tail is warm and smooth.

Caduceus is about to draw his hips backwards, fuck slowly into him, when he realises he  _ can't.  _ The coils of Fjord's tail hold fast against him, keeping him pulled tight and sheathed deep.

Of all the ways he could react, Caduceus’s cock twitches inside Fjord.

"... Tighter?" Caduceus requests, almost under his breath.

Fjord barely missed a beat to obey, perhaps reassured that the action to ground himself was received so well. He constrics just a little tighter, and a soft shiver runs through Cad's body, just visible.

" _ Hah… _ oh, boy. That's weird.  _ Weird _ good." Caduceus says idly, and he just manages to rut up against Fjord, drawing a gasp from both of them. 

They're pulled so close, wrapped up and inside each other. It makes Caduceus sigh, as fondly as his lungs would allow.

"You're so beautiful." again, the praise, and Fjord feels a slightly accepting smile flash upon his face. It's kind of difficult not to accept the praise when it makes him melt from the inside out, all those years of hiding something that - apparently - is beautiful.


	13. Face-sitting (Artagan & Molly)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not that i'm, Like, Jealous or Anything, but i think archfey deserve to be able to change their genitals to suit the time of day.
> 
> sorry it's kinda short ;w;

Molly decides to divvy up their life into two states. One in which an archfey is not sitting on their face, and one in which an archfey is.

As of now, they are fluidy going from one state to another.

(They're pretty good at that fluid stuff.)

Artagan is kind of fucking gorgeous, there's no denying it, bright curls falling about him, all the way to his waist; sharp features alluring in that uniquely fey style. And  _ oh _ , what a pretty cunt he has.

It's almost embarrassing, Molly themself moaning when Artagan so delicately perches himself upon their face, slender hand trailing down a horn. 

"If I'm going to let you lie there, I want to feel that mouth doing  _ wonders _ , mm?" Artagan hums with a firm tap to their horns and a pronounced roll of his hips into Molly's eager mouth. The most they can respond with is an enthusiastic moan, providing vibrations for Artagan to gasp in delight at.

Molly thinks it's shameless first, the way he rides their face, taking his pleasure so easily. Dizzyingly arousing, second. They raise their hands to the sharp wings of his hipbones, half wondering if they'll be slapped away, delicately scratching their claws into skin when they meet no resistance. 

" _ Tieflings _ ," Artagan lauds on a soft moan, "quite extraordinary."

Agreeing with him, Molly's tail reaches just up to Artagan's ass to give it a playful slap, eliciting an 'oh,  _ my! _ ' and an even more enthusiastic rut into their mouth.

Molly is quite comfortable taking the time to acquaintance themself with the sex Artagan has given himself, letting their train of thought wander; does he normally walk around smooth down there? Is that how he was born? Are archfey  _ born _ ? 

A hand curls in their hair, and gives a solid tug, and Molly whines rather noisily into his cunt.

"Be a good pet and do some sucking for me." Artagan says, and his tone is suddenly so  _ commanding _ , and Molly's almost embarrassed at how quick they are to obey. Flicking their tongue over his swollen clit, sucking it between their lips.

The thought that Artagan's primary goal is pleasure, and he's ready to use Molly as he sees fit to achieve that… well, it'd seem overbearing if it wasn't so damn hot.

Artagan starts fucking their mouth with these sharp, unabashed thrusts, accompanied by equally unabashed moans. He's loud, but then again, why would Molly expect anything different?


	14. Auralism / Biting/Marking (Grog & Caleb)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so y'all enjoyed this ship last year. 😏

It didn't happen on purpose.

Caleb was just that close to him – he was doing some reading and wanted something comfortable to sit against – and his neck was tilted sideways.

Lacking a focus for his attention (he couldn't read), Grog had easily picked up on his scent.

It was  _ good _ .

First, he smells burnt. Not the kind of burnt that food gets when it's left in those black boxes for too long… more like a fire when it's reduced to embers, almost diminished. A sharp tang in contrast to the smoky scent, Grog vaguely recognises it as a magic smell. It's strong and smouldering with Caleb.

He doesn't have this funny artificial layer above it all, this mask of fragrance that's some kind of flower or fruit. It kind of ruins the whole concept. No, his smell is laid bare and strong, and Grog  _ really _ likes it.

"Ah. Grog?" Caleb murmurs unsteadily, and Grog snaps to attention from where he's halfway to tucking his head into the crook of Caleb's neck.

"Huh? Wha's– oh. Sorry. Just thought you smelt nice." somewhat sheepishly, he explains. Caleb slides a bookmark into the page of the book he's on, and closes it with soft hands.

"Oh," Caleb says, a soft blush bringing his cheeks to colour, "but I do not wear… perfume of any sorts."

"That's the whole point though, innit?" Grog says, brow furrowing as Caleb turns to him, a funny look in his eyes – a good funny.

"Some people try and put smells on theirsself that isn't them. But you's you and I can smell all of that." he continues, and genuinely cannot help taking a deep breath through his nose, taking in Caleb again.

And Caleb… kind of looks turned on.

"I – well. If you… want to smell me, I." Caleb pauses, flush steadily intensifying. There is no good reason why this should be so arousing, humans don't even  _ have _ scenting capabilties, but he can't stop thinking about Grog's face at his neck, taking in his smell.

Words fail him, so he brushes his ginger hair from his neck, and tips his head to the side.

" _ Ooh _ ." Grog hums, and takes to the inviting slope of Caleb's neck. Nose pressed almost to the skin, it's near fucking intoxicating, and he can feel his cock start to harden against the small of Caleb's back.

" _ Bitte _ ," whispers Caleb, and Grog doesn't know what language that is, but it's all breathy and pretty. 

Big hands wrap around Caleb's small waist, fingertips touching just over his navel, pulling his body back against Grog's. If he looks down, Caleb's growing erection is just visible underneath his clothes.

Grog breathes in again, and he wants to  _ bite _ Caleb, wants to taste him just as good as he can smell him. Wants Caleb walking round with those teeth marks, let everyone see that Grog knows just how good he smells.

But he hasn't asked to do it - which means he shouldn't do it - and his head's all warm and the horny kind of fuzzy. So he replaces teeth for tongue and licks over Caleb's sweet skin, leaving hot stripes of saliva.

"Grog,  _ bitte _ , please, bite me, bite me-" Caleb's gasping out, hips twitching back against Grog, grinding against his clothed cock. 

He's going to have to ask Caleb about how he can read minds, but right now he's sinking his teeth into Caleb's pretty,  _ pretty _ neck, and he tastes all lovely like human and fire and magic and  _ his _ .

Caleb shakes against Grog, letting out a pleasured cry. And it's weird, given how bloody much Grog's turned on, that Caleb's  _ own _ enjoyment is such a heavy contributor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> caleb knows about sexy goliath scenting stuff, Because He Does. because he's a horny wizard with a lot of time and a lot of books.


	15. Somnophilia (Jester & Astrid)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> which one of yall let me get tender in the horny chat?????

Astrid is a very handsome lady. She’s got defined cheekbones and a pointy chin and a sharp hairstyle that accentuates her features. Jester thinks she’s very pretty. 

She watches Astrid when she sleeps, Astrid’s arm tangled loosely in hers. Features divinely slack, lips slightly parted and looking like a deadly princess from a storybook, tragedy turned fairytale.

Jester thinks about kissing her soft lips while she sleeps, and the thought makes her stomach do a little twirl, funny and excited.

It comes out during pillow talk, how cute sleepy Astrid is, when she’s all unwound and lax and vulnerable.

“Would you enjoy doing more than kissing me?” Astrid inquires with a small half-smile that betrays her anticipation of the answer.

Jester nods sheepishly, and Astrid ventures for proof with her lips between her thighs.

A couple days later, and Astrid has been teasing her girlfriend with the sleeping drought all day, tucked into a little satchel on her belt specially for potions. The liquid is dark blue and viscous, just like the night sky, and Jester finds her eyes drawn to it.

Then night arrives, and Astrid takes it with her supper (strawberry doughnuts for Jester, a toasted bagel for herself). They hold hands, as Astrid’s eyelids grow heavy; she runs her thumb over Jester’s knuckles, whispers a reminder of how she wants it - and falls to beckoning sleep.

Jester is practically buzzing with nervous excitement as she watches Astrid curl up slightly on the sofa, the slight crease of her brow softening, the hidden softness of her face blooming.

Jester leans over and kisses her. Astrid is unresponsive, her lips warm, as Jester runs her tongue over the lower. The tiefling continues to repeat her words in her head - she wants it, she wants it.

Her kisses descent slowly, peppering all over her burn scar, down to her neck. Just as she likes it, the points of Jester’s fangs scrape her skin. Astrid’s breath deepens a little, shifting, but does not wake. 

“You’re so very pretty.” Jester whispers into her neck. 

Thanking the Traveller that Astrid thought to wear easily removable clothing, Jester slowly unbuttons her shirt, unclasps her bra. 

Astrid has very pointy boobs.

It’s been a topic of conversation; Jester, soft and fat and curvy, and Astrid, firm and slim and sharp. And they love each other’s bodies as they do their own, lavishing her lover’s body in kisses and gentle bites. Jester’s mouth works its way up the peak of her breast, feeling her breath rise and fall, hitting a hitch when she kisses her nipple. A gentle sigh falls from Astrid’s lips.

“My pointy girlfriend.” reverently, Jester says to herself, taking the peaked nipple between her lips and sucking softly. Astrid’s fists curl and uncurl in her induced sleep, occasionally whining - that’s a new one. As much as Jester wants to continue, this isn’t her end goal, and she descends.

Her kisses find the plane of Astrid’s tummy, her sharp hipbones, the tops of her thighs. Jester’s worked her trousers down to her ankles, not wanting to move her legs too much, despite knowing it wouldn’t disturb her slumber. Astrid is just very very lovely on the outside and in, and knowing that overwhelms Jester to the point that Astrid must be treated as carefully as glass.

The last of Jester’s kisses are pressed to the moist fabric of Astrid’s underwear, a shade that is  _ surprisingly _ similar to Jester’s skin. And colour is not normally something Astrid indulges in, especially not on her naughty things. Jester kisses them once again, and pulls them further down. 

Astrid is so pretty. Her clit is so beautiful, big and swollen, peeking out from under its hood and the thick curls of blond hair.

Jester’s tongue delicately presses against it, rousing the first real moan from Astrid. She starts slowly, the non-verbal praise with her mouth, so as not to overstimulate her. She licks up her slick, laps at the long folds of her labia, hums ever-so softly against her clit. 

The orgasm Jester brings her to is soft but by no means underwhelming, her noises slurred and sleepy but soaked in pleasure. Jester has her arms curled around Astrid’s legs, her bony shins pressing into her skin, but it doesn’t matter. Her pretty, pointy girlfriend.


	16. Power Difference (Percy & Caduceus)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cannot stress how much of a bottom bitch percy is. also i cannot stress the extent of my ability to ship taliesin's characters!  
> (i really can't.)

If Percy wasn't quivering with excitement before Caduceus walked in,  _ now  _ he is.

Caduceus looks like a picture of every single filthy fantasy he's had, wrapped up in a little bow, and presented to Percy on a silver bloody platter.

He's done an  _ incredible _ job.

Caduceus’s makeup is visibly exaggerated, redder red and sharper eyeliner, eyelashes thick and long. His hair is down, as beautiful as ever, a roseate cascade down to his bare waist.

He wears a black bodice with pink floral patterns all over it, hemmed by pink lace. The boots -  _ oh, Percy, you are a genius _ \- thigh-highs of the best quality pink leather with five-inch heels.

Oh, and he's hard.

Caduceus seems somewhat flushed, and Percy gathers it's because he's been staring silently for a good few seconds.

"In all of my days, I  _ never _ …" Percy breathes in awe, swallowing thickly as Caduceus shifts his stance, "you are a  _ picture _ ."

Caduceus’s soft ears bow in response to the flattery, before he clears his throat, chin up just like Percy had suggested.

Percy thinks, oh dear.

I really did expose all my dirty secrets to Caduceus because he was interested in this. In doing a scene.

It's going to be terrifying and he's so good and I am  _ so  _ **_hard._ **

Caduceus walks up to Percy's seat on the edge of their bed, brushes his knuckles over his chin. Percy's heartbeat goes rabbit-fast.

"You're all the way up here. I think we need to fix that." Caduceus observes softly. And Percy wants to fall to praise there and then, how he maintains the deep gentility of his natural voice, though underlying is a flawless strength that pins Percy under it without any effort.

All Percy wants to do is  _ submit _ and he's aching for Caduceus to make him nothing but his pretty bitch.

He thinks,  **_oh dear._ **

"Knees."

Oh fuck, oh dear, oh no.

He's so  _ good at this _ .

Percy wordlessly slides from the bed, folds himself onto his knees by Caduceus’s feet, and already feels his mind quieting, his purpose realised down by the ground.

He nuzzles against the dyed leather of a boot, kisses it gratefully.

"You're absolutely incredible and I don't quite know how to handle it." Percy murmurs, too overcome with how perfect this all is, how perfect Caduceus is. He doesn't  _ quite _ dare to look up at him yet.

A large hand cards through his hair, ruffles it gently.

"You don't have to handle anything, pet. You're alright." Caduceus responds, and his hand slides down to Percy's chin again, tips it upwards until their eyes lock.

Cad is ethereal and commanding and Percy - at a  _ look _ \- groans softly. 

He's coming undone very rapidly.

"Tell me something. Who are you?" Caduceus asks him, and it feels like the standard, cryptic question he'd ask in a normal conversation; only he's reaching for his cock, standing proud between leather and fabric, tantalisingly running his fingers up and down it.

Percy's name doesn't even come to mind. Very little does. 

" _ Yours _ ." he says in a rush of a breath, and the word claims him. Lets him rest.

Caduceus turns Percy's head just so that his lips brush against the tip of Caduceus’s cock, allowing him to obediently lap up the precum beading there.

"Mm - more." Caduceus prompts unhurriedly, following a quiet moan.

"Clay. I. You own me, I- I'm just nothing, nothing but yours. Your pet." Percy continues, every word bright in its truth and desire.

"There we are. That feels real nice to think about, doesn't it?" says Cad, already a little tremble to his voice as Percy returns to licking over the tip of his cock, taking no more than he is given. 

Percy merely nods. Real nice.

Oh dear.


	17. Mirrors (Corrin/Kotho)

The mirror makes it a little easier to believe.

Kotho is looking at her through the glass; her eyes old and weathered, her gaze soft and warm, pleasantly molten. 

"Terra." Corrin muses out loud, both humorous and sad, pondering its existance. Kotho responds with a vaguely affronted noise, the sound nosed into the crook of Corrin's neck.

" _ Don't- _ shush." Kotho shushes her, with words and with arms sliding around her waist, easing up the hem of her shirt until she's pulling it over her head.

"That's one way to shut me up–  _ ah _ –" Corrin starts, quieted again by teeth at her neck, nibbling insistently. Again, staring into the mirror as Kotho runs her hands up her torso to idly play with her breasts.

Kotho aged. Corrin didn't. It's far too easy to see how they change with their relationship - meeting only a few times every year, with enough passion to satisfy a deity.

One of Kotho's hands – the palms even rougher than before and, oh, that's interesting – goes south, toys with the hem of Corrin's trousers until she's pressing her hips backwards.

"Say please, pearl." Kotho hums, nipping at her neck again, only slightly smug. The hints of power struggle is nothing but familiarity and comfort, now.

"It's been too long, why don't we just -" Corrin starts, and her lover is quick to withdraw, a hand sliding under fabric to find her length, pleasantly hard.

Corrin sighs like offloading a weight. It's been some time since she last touched herself, let alone anyone else. It'd be nice just to let her eyes shut, think of nothing but a familiar hand working her clit, but – the mirror is right there, and so is Kotho, still real and tangible despite the mutual worry they'd lost each other permanently.

Keeping her eyes on their reflection as long as she can, she turns her head to nuzzle at Kotho's nose, a preamble to catching her lips in a soft kiss. A betrayal of her need, Kotho groans gently into it, pulls her hips fast against Corrin's as she squeezes her length reassuringly.

When they part, it's as if there's no mirror, no need to reinforce the reality of being together again. Just the kiss, and the tight embrace of each other.


	18. Body Worship (Caduceus & Uk'otoa)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "but op, i thought this was supposed to be kinky!" yeah... yeah, me too.
> 
> anyway join 👏🏻 the 👏🏻 cad'otoa 👏🏻 hellpit 👏🏻 i'm so deeEEEEP

Caduceus lays claim to Uk’otoa as his redeemer. He had shown the leviathan there was hunger past one's own ambition and want; there was hunger for the benedictions of another, sweet and unconditional. And sometimes, simply hunger for another being.

Caduceus was a vessel for all of the Wildmother’s gifts and goodness; he was a cornucopia of all nature's blessing, held within his chest. He was more powerful than he knew, yet still so small and humble.

Caduceus had shown him light, a meaning to existance past entropy, gave him refuge under Her light. By all means, he was holy, holiest to Uk'otoa, his chosen.

And Uk'otoa would worship.

Before Caduceus sleeps, he prays to the Wildmother. As he sleeps, he spends time with his lover. Infinite waters that are less dark, no longer obfuscate its perpetuality.

  
  


Uk'otoa lays claim to Caduceus as his lover. A mortal from above the depths, yet so willing to sink down into the fathoms that Uk'otoa now calls home. No longer a prison; a home.

"I've missed you." Caduceus calls out to the waters, hair fanning out like bright curls of smoke. 

" **_Return_ ** ." says his beloved, the dearest to his heart.

"That I have." he sighs happily.

The eye watches him, a great sunlit glow. Catlike, Caduceus stretches out beneath its gaze, enjoying the feeling of being laid bare, his body and his soul. he hums an affirmation, wiggling his fingers, testing the familiar sensation of being suspended in water.

A tentacle raises itself from below him, wraps around his waist, thick and grounding. 

“ **_Consent_ ** .” Uk’otoa asks.

“ _ Yes _ ,” Caduceus breathes, as eager as he’s ever heard himself, to give himself over, “please.” 

Another tentacle, smaller this time, swipes across his lips - teases him - then slips in, rubbing against his tongue. Caduceus imagines this is a kiss.

Clothes that most definitely were on before are  _ not _ , and the dream takes control as Caduceus eagerly gives it up. Wrapped up in Uk’otoa’s tendrils, around his limbs, at his chest, between his thighs. Softly undulating, squeezing, showing an appreciation that no words could begin to convey. They have done so much, and come so far, from a malevolent entity hounding a man’s dreams and the man’s lonely friend. Now they are together, which is all that seems to matter, here and now. 

“I love you.” Caduceus tells him when the pseudo-kiss is broken, half a whimper, half a declaration of freedom.

“ **_Reciprocation._ ** ” is the reply, Uk’otoa’s eye unblinking, but the emotion sinks in through its light upon Caduceus in his soft, strange revelry.

“ **_Caduceus._ ** ”

He comes at the call of his name, a flush of joy that empties him out, lets him go free. A tendril curls around Caduceus’s length to offer the stimulation he had not directly received yet, squeezes him into overstimulation and past it. 

Pleasure drifts as Cad’s mind does, lines blurring between the worshipping touch and the sexual. It matters not. He traces the seemingly endless length of a tentacle curling from shoulder to waist, both hearing and feeling the soft rumble that seems to echo around him.

“ **_Gorgeous._ ** ” Caduceus hears, and he can’t help but grin at it, grip a little tighter at the tentacle that holds his torso. It feels like bliss.

“And so are you, ‘toa. So are you.”


	19. Sadism/Masochism / Dirty Talk (Marius & Fjord)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry i'm falling behind man, i hope i can keep going but we really don't know. XD  
> sorry if the ending is a little abrupt, i did as much as i possibly could
> 
> i also have the cadwulf server to thank multiple times! i asked for a fjord rarepair and they /SERVED/, then i asked whether fjord has an ass and the reply was a resounding DOUBLE CHEEKED.

"Another, Captain?" 

He can hear the confidence seeping into Marius's voice, not quite cocky, but well-earnt. He runs a light hand over Fjord's spine, and back down to the generous curve of his ass.

Fjord bites down hard on his lip to prevent himself from begging too quickly, trying to retain some semblance of dignity when all he  _ really _ wants is the sting of Marius's hand on him again.

"Yeah. Please." Fjord says finally, fingers tightening on his desk that he's bent over. Marius hums, sounding pleased, and allows a short stretch of silence before his hand comes down on Fjord's ass again, the sound of connection loud and sweet.

Fjord jerks, eyes squeezing tightly shut at the perfect mix of pain and pleasure, the sting melting into a pleasant burn. Only a minute shift of his thighs is enough to tell how wet he is, soft and slippery at the very crux.

"Still good?" comes the boatswain's voice through Fjord's rumination in sensation, squeezing his shoulder gently.

It's not embarrassment, but rather utter contentment in his position that keeps Fjord from raising his head to look. It feels right, undressed and bent over, albeit a captain bent over for a crewmate.

It may even be better that way.

"Ahh–ll good here." Fjord replies, his voice soft and watered down in all the nicest ways. 

Marius lets him cool down, or maybe lets the tension grow, before he spanks him again. Two slaps in quick succession, the moan from the first hitching on the second. Fjord’s chest is heaving from it, and he’s enjoying it  _ far  _ too much. He barely remembers to check himself before he raises his hips to ask for more.

“You know… you’ve got the nicest arse I’ve seen on a man, let alone a sailor.” Marius purrs, and - okay, he  _ may _ be getting cocky now, but Fjord’s willing to ignore it for the shameful, brilliant way it makes him feel. Soothingly, Marius rubs his ass, the gentle touches soon turning into a firm squeeze. Fjord can’t stop himself from whining.

“What’s that again, Captain?” - another  _ smack _ , Fjord’s so turned on he can feel it in his throat - “you’re enjoying the attention?”

Fjord can’t respond, he’s too busy thinking about the way that it makes him burn, hot and embarrassed but so, so good.

Marius spanks him again -  _ hard _ this time, and Fjord jerks against the sturdy wood of the table, letting out a cry loud enough he's worried someone might hear.

"Thought I asked you a question." he prompts, though his tone has turned far gentler. As Fjord sits there and breathes heavily, wondering if he could cum from having his ass spanked raw, Marius takes a vial of balm from his pocket, drips a little onto Fjord's bruised asscheek and rubs it in. Fjord won't admit his disappointment at the sting disappearing – but the cool soothe is still nice.

"Y– es." he answers after another heavy breath, pressing his cheek harder into the surface of his desk. Marius takes two handfuls of Fjord's soft ass as the lotion dries, gropes with them rather roughly – and Fjord is  _ so hard _ .

"And you're enjoying hearing about it." Marius continues, the pitch barely turned up in a question at the end. Because he  _ knows _ . Fjord knows that he knows, and it's just too damn hot.

" _ Yes _ ." he repeats, feeling so shameful he's shameless, and Marius rewards him with another hard smack of his ass. 


	20. Public Sex / Dom/Sub / Aphrodisiac / Formal Wear (Percy & Caleb)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Widolo 👏🏻 Is 👏🏻 Mandatory

They take the aphrodisiac to combat the stage fright; something to turn their focus toward the task at hand, rather than the people watching.

Percy and Caleb, curled up against each other on a large, soft bed, surrounded by circular curtains if they wish for privacy. But that isn't what they came here for.

Unaffected, they get as far as a few kisses and a hand under Caleb's shirt. That's when people start watching – mostly viewers passing by, offering them an appreciative hum. A couple people stop, sit on nearby chairs, and watch the two men with a patient but anticipatory eye.

And this is something the two of them have definitely decided they're into; but both of them prone to the bouts of nervousness.

So they pass it between each other, a small vial full of glittering red liquid. That grabs a little more interest, which soon, is not a problem.

The main annoyance is clothes, now. They've dressed far too elaborately now - Percy's cravat is so high, there's too many buttons on Caleb's uniform-like suit - and little else matters than getting the damned things  _ off _ .

The one thing they just about remember is to keep on Caleb’s elegant pair of white satin gloves that reach up to the elbow. It’s easy enough to pass off as a fetish thing.

When Caleb is unburdened of most coherent thought, nothing but arousal at the forefront of his mind, he shows quite an amount of determination that Percy could literally gag for. And he does.

Caleb fucks his throat, a gloved hand wound in Percy’s hair, chasing that powerful and endless fountain of lust that is amplified by the aphrodisiac. 

It shouldn't feel as good as it does, Caleb's cock rhythmically sliding in and out of his mouth, but it  _ does _ , and it has Percy drooling and trying to moan around his length.

His noises are starting to draw a small crowd - and when he thinks about it, he's only purely turned on by the thought, none of the anxieties from before. Eyes all over, seeing how eagerly Percy is debauching himself on the cock of this  _ handsome _ wizard, cheeks flushed and glasses askew.

Percy looks up at Caleb when he comes, eyes falling shut to the onslaught of pleasure as he pulls Percy off his cock and paints his face. 

Percy thinks he hears  _ applause _ .

The most fascinating thing is that Caleb's erection barely flags; stays pretty and flushed and hard. 

"Fuck," says Percy, very softly.

" _ Ja… ja." _ Caleb replies.

He maneuvers Percy up to his height to kiss him, hard and messy, licking up a stripe of his spend from his lips. He gives the rest of Percy's face much the same attention, and Percy is a  _ mess _ by the end of it.

And the show doesn't stop there; Caleb's in Percy's lap next, bruising his neck to hell and back with hickeys, as Percy slowly fingers him open.

Percy is sure it's a pretty sight for onlookers, Caleb sticking his ass out like he doesn't have a care in the world (which, apart from sex, he does not) with Percy's fingers deep in his hole.

It's  _ blindingly _ good when Caleb sinks down onto his cock, achingly hard and gone mostly untouched until now. Caleb has his arms around Percy, pulling him so close with a desperate intimacy that he expects is borne from the aphrodisiac. Nevertheless, it feels so good to be pressed so close to Caleb, to be inside him, so Percy hangs onto him and almost sobs with the pleasure. 

Some distant conversation snatches a second of Percy's focus, has him turning his head to look. There's– almost a dozen people watching, some of them with a hand disappearing under their clothing.

And Percy is fully aware this is the reason why they came here, to indulge in some filthy, senseless kink, but the realisation hits him  _ hard _ and he curls up into Caleb, groaning as he comes.

His orgasm seems to stretch out, almost resistant to leaving his system; and sure enough, when it leaves him, he's still hard inside Caleb. 

He can almost feel Caleb's smile against his shoulder.


	21. Semi-Public Masturbation / Sounding (Vex & Beau)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M NOT DEAAAAAD!

Vex ushers her into an alleyway with a firm hand on her chest, Beau stumbling backwards with more instinctual ease than she would've planned. Together, they duck out of the way of the crowd, shrouding themselves in the dark that overhead rooftops provide.

"We could try it now." Vex whispers once she's got Beau pressed up against a wall, the brick cool against her back.

"N- _ now _ ?" Beau echoes, some feeling surging through her, and it's difficult to distinguish between the surprise and the  _ fuck yeah please _ of whenever she thinks about doing something bad.

"Well, not if you don't want to, darling, of course. But we  _ could _ ." she clarifies, and must see the flare of excitement in Beau's eyes, her lips curled up into this knowing smirk, and  _ Gods _ , doesn't she  _ own  _ her.

Beau's nodding clumsily, and it's barely a second later that Vex is leaning forward to kiss her hard, the hand on her chest beginning to slide downwards.

"Yeah – mm – please." Beau groans into the kiss, and when Vex's hand slides under her pants to reach its destination, her clit is already starting to perk up with interest. 

"Let me get you hard, then we can fill you up." Vex hums into her ear, words silky smooth and scorching, nibbling along her earlobe. Beau has to bite a noise back, aware of how quickly she's turning to mush as Vex wraps a hand around her, and the presence of  _ people _ just outside this alleyway.

Beau finds the headspace to remember to dig into her pocket, pull out  _ the thing _ that's discreetly wrapped in layers of deep red tissue.

"Eager, are we?" Vex says with her smirk audible in her tone, drawing back to pull down Beau's pants and underwear, her clit bobbing as it's exposed to the cool air. Beau thinks she might combust, in the best way possible.

"Hard not to be. Fuck." Beau counters, eager trembling fingers scrapping at the tissue until she can pull the thing out. 

Starting small, it's thin and short, but still  _ sizable _ when she thinks about its destination. She holds the sound out to Vex, who just smiles - wickedly - and shakes her head.

"I'd much rather see how you handle it yourself." Vex tells her nonchalantly, and Beau hates (loves) how she shivers at that, just the thought of fucking her own clit open while Vex watches.

"Fffuck. Damn. Alright." Beau curses, jutting out her hips a little as she looks first at the sound in her hand, then at the proud height of her length. She pulls out a small vial of oil she'd been given as a freebie along with the sound – the shopkeep had highlighted the importance of lubrication for first timers. It's a little janky, pouring half of it onto her hand and running the sound through the pool on her palm, wetting it thoroughly. All the while, Vex watches like a particularly horny hawk.

When she's done and positions the very tip of the sound against herself, Vex's hand places itself on the side of her head, thumb caressing the texture of her undercut.

"When you're ready. I've got you." she soothes, and some of Beau's surface excitement vibrations calm a little. Vex'ahlia has far too much of an effect on her.

After a deep, shaky breath, Beau begins to push in, gasping at the feeling of her slit opening up to welcome the intrusion of the sound. It gives her a weird sense of gender euphoria, too, the realisation of having a second hole.

" _ Good _ ." Vex praises, the arousal heavy in her voice, as Beau pushes the sound in almost two inches into herself. She stops then, panting softly, the sensation almost overwhelming. It's not quite pleasure yet, but it's far from  _ un _ pleasurable. Vex's gaze is hot on her, watching and expectant. Somewhere, Beau finds the confidence to meet her it, the eye contact intense and good.

"It's fuckin'...  _ nice _ ." Beau breathes, the rush of taboo (sticking something somewhere that doesn't usually have something there) upon taboo (doing something somewhere that people shouldn't usually do that thing there) making her grin.


	22. Kemonomimi (Caleb & Fjord)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinkshame me all you like, but catboy fjord is immortalised now.

Dispel Magic is, logically, all it would take.

But there's something about Fjord's ruddy-brown blush that seems not to be part of the spell, and the way Caleb's heart is jackhammering with tense excitement makes him hesitant to cast.

Fjord's ears –  _ cat _ ears – are pressed firmly against his head, black fur almost blending in with his hair. His tail to match, wound tightly around his thigh. If Fjord weren't blatantly obvious in his body language, these extra features would've given him away.

But it is curious, such expressions he is betraying. Embarrassment, surely; but there is no shame or distaste about it. 

"Veth probably thought it'd be  _ funny _ ." Fjord huffs, saying anything to distract himself from the fact that Caleb is definitely staring, and probably as flushed as Fjord is.

This was not the first of pranks, and most certainly not the last of them.

Just… the first of them that Fjord isn't leaping at someone to get them to reverse the effects. And Caleb is neither hasty to do such.

" _ Ja _ , I can see that," Caleb muses quietly, lips twitching in a private smile, "it is… not funny, though?"

Caleb is asking whether Fjord is also weirdly turned on by these feline features in such a roundabout way, he's running a circle around him.

"N— n _ o _ ." Fjord edges out, ears flattening even further against his head, eyes darting up to get a quick look at Caleb.

"I think it is rather cute." Caleb ventures, and takes a small step towards Fjord - finds himself treating the man as if he were a skittish cat.

Fjord's ears go definitively  _ up _ .

"Please." Fjord whispers, almost inaudible.

With this quiet admittance of want, Caleb reaches up to caress Fjord's cheek, mindful of the whiskers that fan out from the spaces between his nose and cheeks. Fjord's eye winks shut as he follows the brush of his hand,  _ nuzzling _ into it, and Caleb spares a second to be genuinely impressed by this spell.

Would it be too obvious to ask Veth where she procured it? 

"Already so good for me,  _ katzchen _ . Kitten." Caleb hums, sliding his hand upwards to toy with the slip of a brand-new ear. And Fjord, he genuinely mewls at that, the sound slipping unbidden from his mouth.

He stares down at Caleb, eyes wide and clouded with arousal. Caleb almost forgets to be embarrassed that he's half-hard now.

"What a pretty noise… How are you, Fjord, hm?" he inquires, despite there being no need to ask. Just making sure Fjord is comfortable.

“ _ Caleb _ .” Fjord says with an insistence to his tone; wanting, but never directly saying. Caleb can’t tell whether that’s the cat or the Fjord talking.

So Caleb rises up onto his tiptoes to kiss Fjord, pressing the smallest of smiles against his lips, feeling the overexcited  _ thwip _ of a black tail through the air. Curiosity does get the better of the wizard sometimes, and now is one of those times, trailing a hand down his back as they exchange kisses. He senses a minute twitch through Fjord's body as Caleb's fingers nudge the tail that peeks out from beneath his shirt, tusks nipping at his lower lip.

Just wrapping his hand around the base – a gesture that feels both lewd and tempts control – makes Fjord mewl softly, breaking the kiss to nose into Caleb's hair. And Caleb will forever be stuck between finding this adorable and unbearably hot.

Fjord is quickly becoming a mess in his arms, and Caleb's barely touched him. He wonders how sensitive the poor man must be.

He finds he can reach a quick and enjoyable conclusion by giving the gentlest of tugs to Fjord's tail.

Fjord makes the most undignified of squeaks, hips bucking multiple times against the pressure on his tail. 

"Ca– _ aleb _ ," Fjord stutters, the force with which he tries to press himself against Caleb almost enough to push him backwards. Demandingly needy in that flawless catlike way.

Caleb may be ever so slightly disappointed when the spell drops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (spoilers:, it's a double prank, veth knew caleb would be horny over catboy fjord, it was ALL PLANNED)


	23. Stockings | Collar/Leash | Hypnosis (Molly & Essek)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i shall dedicate this to a very good dairy friend of mine who enjoys shadowmauk, and is generally just a cool person. 🖤

That sinking feeling. Like slowly submerging a heavy thing underwater, holding it there beneath the surface.

Molly’s head lolls slightly to one side as the spell takes over, smoothing the ripples of their thoughts into a still lake that their consciousness is held under.

It’s an interesting sensation to describe, feeling like a part of their mind belongs to Essek. It had been rather frightening at first; Molly puts a lot of importance on being the only person to reign over their own mind. But they have learnt - learnt to trust Essek.

Sitting at Essek’s feet, their surroundings go soft and cloudy like the environment of a dream. The only thing they can concentrate on is Essek’s shin just inches away from them, their hand on their cheek.

Here, they feel simple and open. Suggestible.

“There you are, darling,” Essek purrs, stroking over Molly’s cheek, delighting in how attentive they become, sleepy eyes blinking open as soon as they speak. “Do you feel ready?”

“ _ Yes _ , Essek.” Molly replies, and it’s immediate though unhurried. It is a comfort to know that under this spell, Molly cannot lie to them, and their eagerness is clear.

“Good. Wonderful. Up on my lap, then.” Essek instructs, and no sooner than they say that, Molly raises themself up onto their feet with movement that is too measured and smooth to be normal. Silken stockings (one of Molly’s favourite gifts from Essek) slide against the thin fabric of Essek’s pants as they settle upon Essek’s lap, hands resting on their shoulders.

Essek cups their cheeks, looking over their slack features as if to appraise them. Molly moves so easily with it, head tipping this way and that, smile widening with every gentle touch.

Molly is fairly convinced they couldn’t drop any deeper into this wonderful headspace, and then Essek holds the collar against their throat.

“Please,” Molly groans, the vocalisation of their thoughts coming unbidden. There is something rather arousing about this, how Essek will know of their enjoyment whether they like it or not.

Essek chuckles, slender hands fastening the collar around their neck, checking the tightness afterwards with two fingers between the expensive leather and Molly’s gorgeous skin. Next, they clip a short leash to the metal ring at the front of the collar, watching a shiver run so beautifully through Molly’s body.

“Look at that.” Essek sighs appreciatively, leaning back against the plush of the sofa, Molly still obediently perched on their lap, tail weaving unhurried patterns in the air. It brings up a kind of emotion that sticks in Essek’s throat; look how  _ good _ they are for them, happy to sink so far down in their care.

Essek trails a hand up Molly’s thigh, the soft pink fabric of their stockings so smooth under their fingertips. A quiet, high whine escapes Molly as Essek’s hand drifts over the junction between their thigh and crotch, nails threading through rough curls of hair.

“Quiet, sweet thing. Let it happen.” Essek soothes them, and waits for Molly to nod in response. They’re almost grinning, and it has not the cocky flavour that usually fits Molly, but one of pure bliss and happiness. It brings a pang of both pleasure and emotion, and Essek moans softly at the sight, rewarding such an open display with a press of their thumb on the hood of their clit. Molly’s hips twitch forward, letting out a moan of their own. 

Essek is feeling lenient tonight, lenient for their gorgeous tiefling. One hand keeping the leash just this side of taut, the other pushing their hood back to play gentle fingers across Molly's exposed clit.

They gasp and whine so  _ easily _ , soft tremors of pleasure running through them, so soft and wet.

"You are so good for me. So good. What are you? Tell me." Essek breathes, and this place of control comes so smoothly and swiftly – how they love to make Molly feel good.

"So _ o good for you… _ " Molly echoes, rolling their hips into Essek's touch. Essek's tempted to hold their hips still (wouldn't take long, as soft and pliant as they are) or even just  _ tell _ them to be still, either would work. But the dominance that Essek constructs is all in the mind, not the body.


	24. Balcony Sex | Overstimulation (Vex & Keyleth)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> h-hEWWO? is anybody thewe??????

"Quiet, darling. We don't want anyone to hear you, now, do we?"

Keyleth whines softly into where her knuckles are pressed against her lips. Perhaps it's an attempted assent, perhaps she's too far gone to even decipher Vex's words. Her other hand grips the elegant marble of the balcony railing she's bent over, face looking over the beautiful glade surrounding the hotel.

She doesn't want to think about how many people have had the same view during the same activity.

" _ Vex _ –" Keyleth pleads as Vex continues to roll her hips against them. She's been so good, keeping it up so long as to be pushing Keyleth toward her third orgasm. Keyleth's clit is swollen and sensitive, has been off-limits since she came for the second time.

"Yes? Do you have something to say?" she purrs, one hand sliding upwards from Keyleth's hip, over the sensitive side of her body, up to her ginger lengths of hair. Vex cards her fingers through it, both parts gentle and teasing.

"I, ha _ a– mm –  _ a _ h… _ " is all she can make out, moans falling plenty from her mouth as she shivers.

"Oh, dear, are you having trouble forming your words? Mmm… maybe if I were to be a little firmer –" Vex accentuates her musings with a sharp snap of her hips, and Keyleth yelps – "it might help fuck the words out of you." 

"I ca– Vee _ ex _ … hnnn!" Keyleth tries again, her noises rising still in pitch, reaching the heights that can be heard when she's close. 

"Listen to that. You're... getting close again, aren't you?" Vex says, kissing over the soft point of Keyleth's ear, seeking out all her sensitive spots to drive her ever closer.

"P – plee _ eease… aaahhh!"  _ Keyleth sobs at the brush of lips over the shell of her ear, every inch of her skin hot and sensitive, despite the cool air around them.

" _ Shush _ , dearest, I enjoy your,  _ hah _ noises very much, but we don't want anyone enjoying them who-o doesn't have permission, do we?" Vex chides, the effort of her thrusting starting to show through her voice. 

It's been a test of willpower to give Kiki all this pleasure while taking none of her own – but it's the sight and sound of her that makes it all worthwhile. 

"N–no." Keyleth agrees, the underlying possessiveness in Vex’s words sticking warm and satisfying in her chest. She presses herself back against Vex, despite the heat clinging to her skin, scrabbling for some contact that will give her the last excruciating, delicious push over the edge.

“Look at you. So desperate. How proud of you I am.” Vex praises, taking the opportunity of Keyleth’s backwards press to relocate her hands to her hips, keeping her held there firmly. She grinds into Keyleth, nice and slow and consistent, eliciting a long, high whine.

“ _ Vexvexvex… _ ” Keyleth pants, high-strung, and Vex wonders if she has enough power to drive the poor woman crazy, keeping her on the very brink of a peak so far into overstimulation. After a few more luscious grinds, she gently guides Keyleth forward, pressing her down and down until she’s leaning over the balcony again. Vex has a beautiful view of her back then, how her muscles ripple with every thrust, reacting so easily.

With a grunt of effort, Vex leans over to press her chest to Kiki’s back, resorting to the slow grinds that this position gives room only for. 

“Listen to me, dear.” she breathes into Keyleth’s ear, who whimpers out an agreement, desperate for a benediction that will complete her. The anticipation hangs, and one of Vex’s hands slide down to palm ever so gently over Keyleth’s cunt, avoiding her clit.

“I love you.” Vex whispers.

And that does it, sure enough. Keyleth’s back arches underneath Vex, letting out a joyfully pained sob that goes against Vex’ahlia’s previous chiding as she hits her fourth orgasm. She shakes like a leaf, enduring it with all the power of an old oak, pressing her cheek into the warmed marble railing. Vex cooes at her continually, stroking over her hair, the insides of her thighs.

Like a deflated balloon, Keyleth seems to lose all her bones in her body, slumping further to the point Vex is afraid she’d slip over if it weren’t for loving hands all over her. Vex brings her back and up, arms tensing as she takes most of the woman’s weight, cradling her close and littering kisses all over her hair.

“Look at you, fantastic thing, that was four, wasn’t it? It’s a new personal best. Rest now, love, let’s go back inside.” Vex purrs, speaking as slowly as possible to let Kiki’s muddled brain process. It takes a good while for the druid to find her feet, and with Vex’s help, stumble giddily back inside their room. Her grin is blithe and wide.

Ten minutes later, they’re both cuddled up together on a wide bed of silk and duck feather. Vex expected Keyleth to have fallen asleep five minutes ago - but when she feels a hot, loving pair of lips begin to kiss their way down her neck, she suspects her darling Kiki may have a plan of her own.


	25. Body Swap | Size Queen (Pike & Yasha)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to the person that requested pike/yasha, i think i'm in love with them?  
> and a double thank you to everyone who returned after such a long break! you're all fantastic.

Yasha sees an expression writ upon her own face she finds uncharacteristic enough to be comical. Head tilted to the side, eyes wide with a nervous little grin. She recognises it so easily as a Pike kind of expression – one that would be on the features of which Yasha is currently borrowing. 

She ruminates upon the very obvious; things are very  _ small _ . Pike, in Yasha's body, now towers above her, and her body looks strong and intimidating and yet gentle all at the same time. Pike is hunched over as if she's trying to compact this new height and stature, mismatched eyes travelling all over her new body.

"How are you finding it?" Yasha asks unsteadily, and her voice comes out silvery, like silk and cotton. Her pitch dips and rises a couple times among the words, trying to find something that's natural, familiar. She hears a clunky giggle from her voice, and it rings familiar as Pike's, though it comes not from Pike's throat.

"You know, it's… really exciting." Pike decides on finally, and when she looks down at Yasha, she's grinning, making her eyes twinkle. Pike is treating her body so well already.

Yasha moves in to kiss her, then, and has to reconsider her trajectory when she realises she's heading for Pike's – no, her own – chest. Pike giggles again, hesitantly putting her big hands on Yasha's small shoulders to guide her upwards. Yasha's still getting used to being so small now, and it's an extra shock to the system how  _ big  _ those hands on her are now. It's a good kind of shock.

Kissing is even more of a thing to get used to, small lips working desperately against larger ones. She clings to Pike in her body, the touch of their lips sending warm sparks down her stomach, again and again. When they pull away, she can hear herself panting quietly.

With each other’s help, their clothes are discarded, and Yasha continues to have oddly arousing experiences. Pike palms curiously at her breasts, the large, heavy weight of them, hums at how proud Yasha must be of them. She’s very correct. In turn, Yasha explores the pudge of Pike’s body with the nuance of hands that fit it. The rolls of her tummy, the thickness of her arms. She’s been so helplessly in love with this body, it’s strange to have an even more intimate perspective on it now.

“Yasha. Hey? Yashie?” she hears her own voice call out, and starts from her slow tactile worship of Pike’s love handles. Pike is looking down at her somewhat sheepishly, hands toying at the band of her underwear, the hard line of her clit showing through the fabric. 

“Can I take this off? Is it okay?” Pike ventures, and Yasha nods her head out of a daze. Her mouth - or, Pike’s mouth - was watering.

“Ah. Yes. Please do.” she responds, fumbling over her words, eyes glued to her own body as Pike removes her undergarment and her clit bounces free, almost fully hard.

Yasha realises this now - she really  _ is _ big. 

Pike beats her to it with a, “It’s so funny, it just seems like a normal size when you’re in your head. Does it look big to you?”

Yasha nods vehemently, swallowing around another excess of saliva. She starts to lean in just to get a better look at herself, how long and thick she is from this angle, when she realises she can’t stop - and doesn’t want to.

Pike gasps so prettily, even in Yasha’s own voice, when her lips touch near the head of her clit - where it’s most sensitive - and press a soft kiss to it. She’d never have thought to treat her body so gently, not until Pike took temporary control of it. 

“ _ Oh _ , Yashie, that’s lovely…” she breathes, a hand falling down to the top of her head, finding it impossibly awkward to thread her fingers through the strands like she can usually do when she has her own, smaller hands. 

Encouraged by the large, comforting pressure on her scalp, Yasha begins to suck softly at the skin, teasing out the sensitivity. It’s far easier to sink into it than she thought it’d be, and she can’t complain about it. One hand trailing down the expanse of her thigh, the other planted on the bed to ground herself, Yasha continues to lick and kiss her way down and up her clit, feeling a warmth bloom at the apex of her thighs. Pike is blissfully noisy, perhaps because she trusts Yasha enough to hear the full extent of her pleasure, perhaps because it’s such a new sensation. It only takes a few minutes for her to gently press at Yasha’s forehead, pushing her back with more ease than perhaps expected.

“My turn?” Pike whispers, cheeks flushed and shoulders shaking. A full-body shudder travels down Pike’s body, originating from Yasha’s own arousal.

They switch places, Yasha lying down against the head of the bed (and  _ oh _ , how soft pillows are when there is so  _ much  _ of them) with Pike on her stomach between her legs. She feels so heavily exposed, legs splayed as wide as she can comfortably get them to accommodate her head. Pike carefully sweeps her curtains of two-toned hair behind her as she leans in, pressing wet kisses up her thighs.

“Wow. I really am small, huh.” Pike says with a little laughter, and it’s strange how well it lights up Yasha’s features. Oddly comforting, too. 

Yasha reaches out to take a lock of her hair in her hand, stroking it lightly as Pike leans in fully. 

The first draw of her tongue is enough to have Yasha raising her hips and groaning softly. Her own tongue is so soft, wet and  _ wide _ , and combined with the kind firmness of Pike’s manner, it’s perfect. Yasha’s got a cunt, now, slick and  _ little _ and so easy to pleasure.

“Oh.  _ Please _ .” Yasha breathes, and Pike takes no more time save for a beatific smile, licking over her sex again. Yasha guesses that Pike knows what feels best for her body (Yasha has a few ideas herself, too), for she’s exact and accurate, and has Yasha trembling within the minute. It is, similarly, an unsurprisingly short amount of time before Yasha is warning in sighs and moans of her orgasm. Pike pulls back with one last little kiss to her clit. 

Yasha’s quivering and barely able to collect her thoughts enough to speak. Her climax was so close, and its fizzling away has her desperate to move on, seek pleasure again. So she raises herself up with Pike’s strong arms, takes her own head between her chubby hands. She watches her eyes narrow, crinkling at the edges, an undeniably Pike-y expression on her face.

“I would... like you inside me.” Yasha whispers.


	26. Lingerie | Exhibitionism (Percy & Orthax)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is what happens to you when ya start watching campaign one, people.
> 
> (https://lovechildboudoir.com/products/ghost-rider-black-lace-body-cage-playsuit?variant=32633388231 for reference 😏)

He's been wearing it all day. He could feel it, subtly and beautifully, the straps that cross his shoulders, his abdomen and hips. The black lace that fans out like a butterfly across his torso. Although the fabric of it is cool, it feels hot like a brand, pressing warm shivers into him with every movement that causes it to stretch. Thank goodness Vox Machina had no taste nor opportunity to fight; Percival would have been doing such with a halfie.

He doesn't know whether he's disappointed or eager for the day to close, the sun dipping itself beyond view of the human eye. After the sunset, the only light in Percy’s room are gas lamps, and a few candles to set the mood.

He strips down to the luscious bodycage, runs his hands all over the straps and lace. Then, with a shivering breath, he relaxes back against the headboard of his bed, and concentrates on the smoke weaving its way from the candles' flame-tips.

Shadows start to grow, stretch, and flicker in places where they logically should not be; temperature flaring hot, then lukewarm again; Percy feels a familiar, cool pressure at the base of his head, as – " _ Percival… _ "

Orthax's growl seems to come from within Percy, somewhere so deep and vulnerable, and yet so close to both his ears he shivers from the sensitivity. This tone of his is different, more insistent, darker. Orthax is… aroused.

Percy flushes with triumphance, anticipation, the kind of fear he wishes were tangible so he could squeeze it in his fists. His thighs spread a little further, beckoning closer the unnatural shadows in his quarters, his stirring cock a pretty juxtaposition to the black straps perfectly framing it.

_ "You look good enough to eat." _ Orthax's voice purrs in his mind, his presence flaring like a spark, and Percy watches his cock give a gentle twitch.

"Feast on me, then. I've been ripening  _ all _ day." Percy answers quietly with a soft, eager shiver to his voice.

A hungry growl unfurls in his mind as the shadows grow again in strength, snuffing out the candles Percy had taken such care to light, becoming more and more sizable until the brightness loses the battle. Two crimson red eyes blink open where the blackness is most saturated, and Percy feels Orthax's presence as surely as he feels soot on his fingertips. 

"Look how you present yourself." says the demon, his shadows shivering as if to contain a dark energy. Percy won't quite admit how he moans and preens under the observation, tilts his hips to be better seen.

A long, clawed hand pulls forth from the shadows and takes its stock of Percy's decoration, talons pulling at and snapping back every strap, picking free tiny stitches from the lace. They nip gently at Percy's skin, although he knows this first touch is not for him – rather for Orthax to appreciate, to appraise.

"You wore this  _ all day… for me…"  _ Orthax growls, smoky palm just ghosting over the length of Percy's cock, leaving him no time to attempt not to raise his hips needily. 

"It felt  _ very _ naughty." Percy clarifies with an edge of humour, reaching down to play idly with one of the straps of his bodycage at his breast – and the shadows pulse, a tendril surging forth comprised of smoke, latching around his wandering wrist to pull it to his side. Then, Orthax seems to have a better idea, instead guiding Percy's hand down towards his cock. With an insistent tug, Percy gets the idea, taking himself in his grip and allowing the tendril to guide his hand up and down at an agonisingly slow pace.

"Feel the pleasure, Percival." he bids, and Percy complies so easily despite there being so little, rolling his head back and letting the slow touch set off gentle bursts of pleasure. "How you enjoyed debasing your body. So close to your friends."

And  _ that _ is what makes Percy twitch, hand giving the slightest hint of resistance against the black tendril (which easily swells in its girth, slows its pace even more, in retaliation). That had been the best part, marginally better than wearing the thing itself; if his shirt were to ride up a little too far, anyone could have spied the snatch of black fabric. 

"Yes." Percy breathes, already sensing that basal, budding need to yield to Orthax's words, the teasing he inflicts upon Percy, to present and be good.

"That is what pleases you. Hiding your state of arousal from your companions… perhaps wishing you were not so successful at hiding it."

" _ Yes,"  _ Percy says again, his imagination doing half the work now, conjuring up the possibilities of one of his friends seeing the distension in his pants, or seeing a shade of black beneath his white shirt. How they might react with their own arousal, or lustful teasing, or threaten to call the rest of the group to learn of Percy's filthy indulgence. He spends so long indulging in such thoughts that he doesn’t notice how desperately he’s been trying to wrest his hand from Orthax’s tendril grip, until the snarling voice shatters his fantasies - “ **_Percival._ ** ”

He snaps to attention, hand stilling on his aching cock, freezing up and waiting for - hoping for - further reprimand.

“ _Control_ _yourself_.” Orthax commands, but Percy is already convinced that he _cannot_ , and it is hardly fair for Orthax to be asking for his composure when it was his words that began the rosy spiral. Secondly, Percy doesn’t even want to. All he wants is to _be_ controlled. So he shakes his head, letting his breaths fall in occasional whimpers.

“Sir, please,” Percy gasps, and it is definitely an unusual honourific to place upon a shadow demon, but the single syllable is the key to the part of Percy’s mind that opens up and accepts a firm hand. He hears a rumbling in his mind that may be a noise of understanding from Orthax, the one black tendril withdrawing from his wrist, rapidly thickening and lengthening as it curls around his cock instead, tightening and squeezing around hot, silky flesh that had begged for a firm touch for so long. 

  
“You are  _ mine _ . This body is mine. Your  _ fancies _ are mine.” Orthax tells him, darkly, hotly. Percy nods helplessly, gasping as the tendril squeezes him tighter, less for pleasure and more of an assertion of ownership. His  _ fancies _ , he thinks to himself, and the way Orthax had leant on the word gives him such a thrill. His dirty, unrealistic fantasies, but so good, so  _ moreish _ . How desperately he wants to show off such a lewd side of himself, clad in black - although he wants to be put on display for others, he knows it’d only embellish the fact of his belonging to Orthax.


End file.
